


green (and all that follows)

by chattrekisses



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I can't believe I'm writing RPF again, Idiots in Love, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, kind of?, no beta we die like the rat bastards we are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chattrekisses/pseuds/chattrekisses
Summary: There’s a lull in their conversation, and George is lying on his bed, staring at the cracks on the plaster matrix of his ceiling when Dream says it.“You know that I love you, right?”It’s not like they don’t say that to each other, because they do, but the inflection this time is so different, so charged. George feels the air around him go thick and hot, humid even, and he imagines that’s what Dream is feeling now, somewhere in Florida. He knows that when Dream said “love,” he didn’t mean it as a synonym for “friendship.”Something in George’s stomach twists, violently, like it’s trying to tell him something.George says, carefully, so carefully, “I love you too. You’re my best friend.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	green (and all that follows)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my emotional support writing-warm-up RPF. Don’t take it seriously, don’t send it to the people in it. Please let me know if you enjoyed! Comments/kudos feed the muses.

George doesn’t really  _ get it  _ at first. He doesn’t think anything of it at all, really. He just thinks that Dream is being nice to him. 

It’s a Thursday night, so late for him that it’s verging on Friday. He’s wearing Dream’s merch, the lime-green hoodie, while he plays Minecraft for his stream. Sapnap’s giving him shit for his little mushroom house when Dream joins their discord call.

“Dream! Hey! Will you tell Sap––”

“That’s a nice color on you.”

George’s hands freeze over his keyboard. “What?”

“The hoodie. Green. It looks nice on you. You look nice.”

George’s brain whites out. Without thinking, he says, “Uh. I’m colourblind.”

Sapnap explodes into peels of laughter. George can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck, coloring his cheeks. 

“Jesus Christ,” wheezes Dream. His voice is bordering on too fond, and it makes something in George’s stomach curl. “I know that. You still look good, idiot.”

“Thanks,” mutters George, and it’s awkward, and it comes too late to sound like a proper response to Dream’s compliment, and it makes it weird, or was it weird the entire time? He returns to the game, but he can feel his heart doing double-time in his chest for minutes after. George elects not to think about it. 

***

Sapnap texts George after his stream:  _ you cool man? seemed kinda off, just wanted to check in. _

George responds:  _ I’m good, just a bit tired.  _

_ too tired to get on call with me? want someone to keep me company for a bit _

George gets on the call–– Sapnap doesn’t ask for company unless he needs it. 

“Everything cool?” asks George.

“Stressed,” says Sapnap. “Comp sci stuff. I don’t know. I feel kind of stupid–– this is supposed to be my thing, y’know? It’s supposed to be what I’m good at? But it’s just not… clicking. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. Show me what you’re working on, maybe I can help.”

“Thank fuck. I was afraid I would have to, like,  _ ask _ for help and that would have been fucking embarrassing.”

Sapnap sends George pictures of the problem sets he’s working on–– it’s cache coherence protocols, George knows this, he can do this. He walks Sapnap through the problem sets. It’s a good distraction from what’s running through his head, until it isn’t, and George realizes he’s talking after he’s already started. “Is this a good colour on me?”

Sapnap pauses. “Uh.”

Heat begins to creep up the back of George’s neck again, twice in one day he’s blushing like a fuckin’ schoolgirl, ain’t that perfect. “It’s just. Dream said it looked good. I dunno if he was joking or not.”

George watches as Sapnap leans closer to his screen to inspect the grainy video of George that’s being transmitted through the discord call. “You look like you always do, man. Just, like… George. You’re George. You look like George.”

“What does that mean?” scoffs George.

“Dude, I don’t know! You look normal to me!”

“You think he was joking then?”

“What?”

“Dream. Do you think he was joking about me looking nice?”

Sapnap rubs at his nose, confused. “Nah, I don’t think he was joking. Like, you look  _ nice, _ like, 90% of the time. You’re, like, a pretty guy. Nice in the, uh, face region. This is so dumb, George. I’m sure Clay was just being nice.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” says George. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

George can feel Sapnap staring at him, even through the computer screen the gaze is questioning. 

“You sure you’re okay, George?” asks Sapnap.

“I’m fine. Really,” says George. For some reason, it feels strange. Not quite like a lie, more like an un-truth. “Let’s get back to the problem sets.”

They work on the problem sets until Sapnap understands them, and then George signs off. 

He lies in his bed, nursing a cup of tea and staring at the ceiling for an hour, contemplating why he wants to buy more green clothing when he can’t even see the color, before he falls asleep. 

***

It’s a few weeks later, at about two A.M. on a Thursday, when George really  _ gets it _ . When he can no longer not  _ get it _ .

He’s been talking to Dream for hours about useless shit–– about fictional futures for each of them, about whether Sapnap would live a happier life as a kangaroo or a dolphin, about who would be able to make a better scone (despite neither feeling inclined to try, and neither having any particular love of scones). 

There’s a lull in their conversation, and George is lying on his bed, staring at the cracks on the plaster matrix of his ceiling when Dream says it. 

“You know that I love you, right?”

It’s not like they don’t say that to each other, because they do, but the inflection this time is so different, so  _ charged _ . George feels the air around him go thick and hot, humid even, and he imagines that’s what Dream is feeling now, somewhere in Florida. He knows that when Dream said “love,” he didn’t mean it as a synonym for “friendship.”

Something in George’s stomach twists, violently, like it’s trying to tell him something. 

He says, carefully, so carefully, “I love you too. You’re my best friend.”

All the cracks on George’s ceiling look like rivers now, flowing somewhere he can’t reach. Time feels stagnant.

Finally, Dream says, “I think I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight, George.”

And he leaves the call before George can respond.

George feels like his heart is trying to escape his ribcage. He looks at his ceiling, and he misses Dream’s voice, and he doesn’t know what to do about that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter should be out soon, it'll be longer. Let me know your thoughts through kudos/comments, if you feel so inclined!


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